


Vulnerability

by JelliclePussycat



Series: Marith/MadamSpellman omo [2]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Bladder Control, Comfort Sex, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Don't Like Don't Read, F/F, Loss of Control, Omorashi, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Prompt Fic, Self-Stimulation, Smut, Vulnerability, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29733597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JelliclePussycat/pseuds/JelliclePussycat
Summary: Zelda's been working herself silly trying to build the Church of Lilith and ignores her body's needs [...].
Relationships: Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Series: Marith/MadamSpellman omo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189325
Comments: 13
Kudos: 52





	Vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BadWitchOfTadfield](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWitchOfTadfield/gifts).



> Prompt:  
>  _The setting is at the end of season two, methinks. Zelda's been working herself silly trying to build the Church of Lilith and ignores her body's needs. When she finally realizes her bladder's full she keeps getting interrupted (Melvin!). Enter Lilith (Maybe Zelda sends an involuntary prayer?). Zelda being Zelda tries to hide her predicament as long as she can (past the point of comfort maybe that's up to you if you're comfortable) until clever Lilith eventually catches up. At first she wants to have fun then she realizes the situation and coaxes her into letting go (in her clothes because it's hot. I don't know why, don't ask.). Cute aftercare later._
> 
> The “cute aftercare” turned into “sexy aftercare” (but I guess you can call it cute and soft too!), hope you don’t mind. Enjoy!

VULNERABILITY

for [ BadWitchOfTadfield ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWitchOfTadfield/pseuds/BadWitchOfTadfield)

Zelda made a mental note to find a better way to test potions. She wasn’t regretting her decision to take on that class as well (Hilda was the best in that field but they couldn’t have students simply brewing love or healing potions for the whole semester) it was stimulating and the kids seemed incredibly alert and prone to learn, which was a true delight. Perhaps it was seeing their friends and family die that spur them to want to know more and good, but she didn’t really care as long as they listened and took notes and respected her authority.

She was satisfied with them and satisfied with that class; the thing was, still, she needed to find a better way to test their works.

Because Zelda couldn’t stay there gulping vials after vials of this or that brew, simply to tell one that he needed to add more shark skin or another that she needed to use less belladonna powder: after tasting the sixth bottle (and she couldn’t just take a sip from each, she needed to gulp down the whole thing) she already was feeling funny tasting liquids sloshing in her stomach and was slightly nauseated.

Her class counted 23 students, which meant 23 bottles of potion with some antidote after a few of the students messed up and created something poisonous.

After her class, she had the brilliant idea to go straight to her office and get rid of some paperwork.

That was almost two hours ago, and the sloshing blend of potions wasn’t heaving on her stomach anymore but had shifted elsewhere.

Now, she was glancing at the clock, her pen scribbling away on a file, her leg bouncing atop the other, the band of her pants suddenly wrapping her hips slightly too tight, and a rather uncomfortable feeling settling low and deep in her insides.

Huffing, she clenched her jaw and tried to focus on the pile of essays she needed to grade. Why wouldn’t any adult survive to help? Hilda was minding the practical side of the whole business (after all, those kids were kids and couldn’t yet take care of themselves) and Prudence helped her with some of the classes, but she was left with the tedious desk work and it was simply exhausting. Not to mention long: whenever she thought she was done with something, there was another pile of papers popping up on her desk.

Being Directrix was hard and she was struggling, but she would have never admitted that out loud, of course.

 _Unholy Lilith._ She growled behind clenched teeth when another half an hour passed. She uncrossed and crossed her legs immediately, thinking that in a while she could spare herself a trip to the restrooms before recess (she needed to go before the students poured out of the classes and avoid some embarrassing or unwelcomed encounter on her way there).

She could wait a little more and get something else done. She was an adult. She could do it. She needed to set the example: duty and knowledge came before everything, even before one’s basic needs - yes, there was no one to see her feat, but herself as a witness was enough.

She would know she stood strong and tomorrow, she would teach, knowing she succeeded in making her mind and strong will prevail over her body.

It was silly, perhaps, but she liked to have a new achievement set for each day, and today was getting to recess with doing as much work as possible while staying focused for the whole time despite her pending need.

When Zelda noticed she was slightly rocking her hips on her chair, she stopped immediately. Swallowing with a pinched brow, she shifted back and noticed a rather uncomfortable heaviness in her belly.

30 minutes until recess, which gave her 15 minutes worth of work, still. She could do it; she had to do it. What were 15 more minutes? She pressed so hard on the paper that the quill broke and ink poured everywhere.

“For Lilith’s sake!” She cried out, trying to marginalize the damage.

The sudden jerk, however, combined with the anger and the surprise, made her unclench her legs to spur into action, and Zelda, perhaps for the first time, was made aware of the situation: the heaviness in her stomach shifted lower again, and, widening her eyes a bit, she felt a familiar and so unwelcomed pressure between her thighs. She clenched her inner muscles and stilled.

Something down there had begun to throb.

It was warm and slick but there was nothing that happened during the whole morning that could’ve made her even remotely aroused.

It wasn’t pleasurable, just extremely uncomfortable because she knew what was causing that. It was... _embarrassing_.  
One thing was believing that the brain could overcome the body under every circumstance, another was ignoring a basic need until it became too much to handle. That was simply stupid.

It was hard to admit she was wrong and that she had to give up and surrender, but it would’ve been much harder to have an accident like a little girl of three (she was more than 4 centuries older than that!). And with the scarce magic they owned at the moment, she would have been forced to walk through the Academy with a rather eloquent damp patch on her crotch.

What a laugh for the students. There wouldn’t be an esteemed reputation for Directrix Spellman anymore: she could as much wave goodbye to her authority because, with good reason, the students would never take her seriously after something like that.

No, she couldn’t let it happen. Swallowing thickly, she pulled at her jacket and pushed her chair back with her legs, putting some distance between herself and the desk. She took a small breath and stood up quickly, both hands going to rest on the flat surface before her.

Zelda couldn’t do much but press her legs tight together as the heaviness in her abdomen made its whole presence known.

Tentatively, she straightened her back and slowly unpeeled her hands from the desk, testing her own ability to move. Fingers grazing over her belly, she almost whimpered when she felt an unnatural roundness pressing behind the button of her trousers (as much as she loathed to admit it, even inside her head, Zelda had to come within reason that her bladder was at full capacity and she was feeling close to bursting).

She couldn’t wait longer.

Gripping the collar of her jacket and shoving one hand in the pocket of her pants (she couldn’t simply fiddle with her fingers to avoid reaching between her legs to help her already sore muscles to contain the flow), Zelda made her way toward the door, quickly calculating that she had a fair amount of time to go to the restroom, relieve herself and go back to her office unnoticed and without any unfortunate outcome.

She was about to open the door when Melvin almost bumped into her.

“Directrix Spellman!” He panted, looking like he’d been chased by some werewolf, like always.

Melvin was her plague. He was the one running through the Academy shouting news and he very rarely carried good ones.

At that moment, Melvin was her greatest curse, even more than ever.  
Yet, she had never ignored a student’s needs, no matter how silly they were (because as a teen, her niece made sure to remind her every day that even a simple love quarrel was a huge issue) and she wouldn’t surely start today.

“What is it, Melvin?” She inquired, shifting impatiently from one foot to another.

“You were going somewhere?” The boy asked, big puppy eyes watery as he silently begged to be heard.

Zelda couldn’t just say she was going to the restrooms (it was private!) and Melvin reminded her of her own sister Hilda: sweet, kind, altruistic, panicky, and maybe even thrown into a world of witches and darkness that wasn’t completely cut out for him. She couldn’t just refuse him help.

_Lilith, give me strength._

And so she retraced her own steps back and sat down in her chair and she was surprised that she could walk rather normally, perhaps a little wobbly, but Melvin didn’t notice anything.

Once she sat, she sighed as the throb in her belly seemed to subside a little, and the fullness turned into something bearable.

Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as she thought.

“I solemnly swear it won’t take long,” Melvin promised and she nodded, giving him permission to start talking.

However, just like any promises made by a witch or warlock, it was a lie: the boy went on and on, rambling about his sweetheart Elsebeth and his old grades and the classes that he loved and hoped to attend again and about the loss of his parents and how hopeless he felt about the future.

Zelda made a mental note about asking Sabrina how mortal schools dealt with depressed students and consultants because they would probably need someone to help witches and warlocks too. After all, they all lost their families, they saw friends die, they learned their god had flaws and only recently started to pray to another: it was a lot to deal with.

By the time Melvin had slowed down his incessant talking, Zelda was chewing on her bottom lip, her crossed legs, luckily unseen (concealed behind the desk) bouncing uncontrollably.

A part of her wanted to keep on listening, but she just couldn’t, too focused on the pounding of her bladder.  
She rocked slightly on her chair, managing to make it look like a simple rearrangement and she took in the involuntary clenching and unclenching movements of her core, her body trying different ways to deal with the pressure.

When the bell rang, they both startled.

Melvin offered his apologies for taking so long, but Zelda dismissed him, cheeks going aflame when she lost control of her muscles for an instant, and a rather hot, fluid tingle traveled from her lower abdomen straight to her cunt. She pressed her thighs together and begged for it not to be an actual leak, but also for the blush on her cheeks not to be too visible.

“Thank you for your time, Directrix Spellman.” The boy stammered and stood up to leave.

Zelda watched him go and only when she was sure she was alone, she allowed herself a whimper as she leaned back on her chair and extended her still crossed legs under the desk.

She felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes when she heard the buzzing of voices rising from the corridors, signaling that recess had started.

She wanted to cry.

Now she couldn’t really venture outside her office and head to the restrooms because how would it look for her to wait in line with the students, squirming on her feet like crazy because she was about to burst? And how would she survive the sound of others relieving themselves and the running water from the sinks as they washed their hands?

The only thought of that made her shiver.

She had no other option than to wait 15 minutes for them to go back to their classes. 15 minutes weren’t much, but right now, they sounded like an eternity.

Closing her eyes, she angrily unbuttoned her jacket (not that it did much because her bladder was constricted by her pants) and clawed at her thighs, raking her nails over the fabric to hear it rustle and cope with the throbbing.

 _Unholy Lilith, give me thy aid._ She thought, unconsciously, in her head.

Surely the Queen of Hell had faced much more challenging threats than humiliation, but right now it was vital, for Zelda, to win that battle. If only she was provided with a little magic, she would find a solution to solve her issue rather quickly, instead, she was left to deal with a basic need in a mortal way: waiting without being able to do much about it.

Zelda hated that condition.

Zelda hated everything, right now.

Soon enough, she found herself staring at the clock, the hands tickling away too slowly for her taste. Her drunken mind started to ramble about and Zelda found herself staring rather intensely at the plant vase next to the window for a couple of minutes before realizing how degrading her thoughts were, so she sighed loudly and started to bang her knees together.

_Praise Lilith, praise Lilith._

She began to chant when the bell rang again: recess was over.

She needed to wait a couple of minutes before going out of her office to give enough time to everyone to go back to their classes and empty the corridor, but... she did it. Her torture would be over soon.

When she couldn’t hear a single sound coming from outside, she braced herself and stood up.  
Her legs were wobbly, the heaviness of her bladder almost unbearable, and what made her pale was the fact that she just couldn’t stand up straight. If anyone were to see her like that, they would either think she was about to throw up (which wasn’t far from the truth) or about to wet her pants. There was no denying it nor a way to conceal it.

If standing was torture, she couldn’t think about walking. The restrooms were a couple of corridors and two hallways away.

She clenched her jaw like she clenched her inner muscles and drew a sharp breath, blinking up to the ceiling to ward off the tears. The last rush of a marathon was always the hardest (it was the thing they said on tv whenever she watched it, hoping for a fight between the contestants that never occurred) but also the most rewarding. She just needed to get through the restrooms. Perhaps she was worrying too much because it was very unlikely for her to meet anyone.

She could do it.

She gasped when, upon taking her first, unsteady step away from the desk toward the door, she felt a hot wave crashing toward her.

She closed her hands into two fists, her nails sinking into the soft flesh of her palms when she felt an aching pang curse through her bladder.

Narrowing her eyes to not let the swirl of flames blind her, she watched in dismay as Lilith appeared in her office.

Teatrical as always, the demoness was striking a pose, hands on her slender waist and hip slightly tilted up on one side, her infernal gown wrapping her figure perfectly and all in the right ways, the embellishment on the front of her dress framing her bosom, the collar of golden bones resting over her shoulder like armor, the crown gracefully seated on her head. Her eyes were bright and lively, her lips painted in red, curved into a smug smile that made Zelda clench her jaw even harder than before.

“You called?” She asked, with the tone of someone who already knows the answer.

“No.” Zelda almost whimpered, letting herself fall heavily back on her chair. Surely she couldn’t stand there squirming in front of the Queen and make a fool of herself.

“Pity,” Lilith mocked her with a fake pout, slowly striding closer to her desk, her gaze caressing everything that was around, even Zelda. “I thought you did. You sounded rather… _demanding_ too.” She explained.

Zelda gulped down, cursing herself for praying to her so recklessly, thinking she had more important things to do in Hell than to actually listen to her silly requests - but that, of course, it wasn’t true because she was her High Priestess and had a direct line (so to call it) to communicate with the Queen. She’d been naive.

“What is the problem, mother Zelda?” She practically purred, her fingertips grazing over the ink-stained paper in front of her.

“Nothing.” The witch snapped, crossing her legs tightly and looking up at the demoness through hooded eyes.

If she could pretend the way Lilith addressed her hadn’t affected her, then she could as well pretend that everything was fine albeit not for long, “I’m sorry to have bothered you, it wasn’t my intention. I bet Hell requires your presence, you'll be as busy as I am... if not more.”

A smirk crept on Lilith’s mouth.

To her dismay, she watched the demoness take a step backward and lay herself on one of the chairs that Melvin had previously occupied.

Zelda found herself indulging a little too much on the way she crossed her legs and leaned back as if she was sitting on her infernal throne, the gown slipping off her thigh to reveal the tanned, freckled skin that laid underneath.

The witch shifted closer to the edge of her chair, hoping it would give some friction against the seam of her trouser to focus on, rather than the building pressure gathering low in her bladder.

“I always have time for my High Priestess,” Lilith murmured, her eyes never leaving hers.

After trapping her abuser and owning the crown that was promised, she had all the reasons to gloat, but she had no right to look that fetching, nor so grand when Zelda, right now, only felt small and stupid. Lilith was the Queen of Hell and Zelda, as her High Priestess, wasn’t making her justice. 

Not that she would notice, since their relationship (if one could call it that) had always been a tug of war: Lilith would provoke her, Zelda would play aloof until one or both of them would get bored and bid goodbye until next time.

Zelda wanted to close that conversation and rush to the restrooms.

Lilith, on the other hand, seemed prone to endure a little more and it was different from any other time. Under other circumstances, she would swear the demoness was teasing her and in a rather flirtatious way too: Lilith was literally playing with her.

It made very little sense, unless… _No_ . There was no way she could know- Oh, _sweet Lilith,_ she knew.

“Sweet. You think I’m sweet?” The demoness tsked, “You flatter me, Zelda.”

The realization that she probably was able to hear every single thought in her head had Zelda’s eyes grow wide and her heart skipped a bit.

Unconsciously, she tightened her fists until it hurt and she vaguely wondered if she’d overdone it and drew blood from her palms.

With horror, she watched Lilith’s smile growing wider, she watched her bare her teeth and exhale a soft sigh. Her gaze, however, was the opposite of softness: it was dangerous and feral, delighted and amused.  
A cat playing with the mouse.

“You know, you’re positively delicious when you pray to me,” Lilith went on, “And I can’t just ignore my High Priestess now, can I?”

Lilith had no right to sound so endearing, especially now, when her body was turning against her.

The ache in her lower abdomen and the clenching muscles of her core blended with another, much different need that only added to her discomfort.

_Damn her._

“There’s nothing wrong,” Zelda replied, even though she wasn’t sure anyone could’ve ever believed her words, “You can leave, thank you.”

“I know I can leave,” The demoness replied, “But I don’t want to.”

“But you need to leave!” The witch blurted out, her voice high-pitched, a clear admission of her desperation. She felt her cheeks aflame, her whole body quaking, and she pushed her hips further into the chair, whimpering when she felt the smaller hole in her cunt pulsing with need.

“Now now, that’s not the way to speak to your Queen.” Lilith tsked again, her voice sweet as sugar, her eyes feral as a striking snake.

Zelda swallowed thickly and, despite her struggle to remain in control of her body, her hands came down to her thighs, clawing once again at the fabric, her hips rocking subtly as she grinded her bottom on the chair.

The clock in her brain wouldn’t stop tickling, reminding her the end was close. With the anxiety growing, and her body being so tense for so long, all her muscles engaged, she could feel sweat gathering uncomfortable on her skin.

Bowing her head forward when another pang cursed through her bladder, she couldn’t control her right hand and, before she could acknowledge what she was doing, she shoved her fingers between her thighs, pressing intensely against her cunt, providing a physical barrier for the fullness threatening to breach her.

“I can manage.” She whimpered meekly, eyes shut close when she realized she wouldn’t be able to remove the hand from between her legs without leaking.

She waited, squirming when she moved ever-so-slightly her fingertips against the depth of her core, rubbing the damp fabric of the panties right across her fluttering, sore muscles. She waited for the flames to engulf her prestigious guest, she waited for Lilith to get bored of her and bid her goodbyes, but nothing happened.

When she dared to look up, Lilith was still sitting on the chair, gazing at her, mouth slightly ajar.

There was no way her demoniac eyes could see what was happening behind the desk, but somehow, Zelda knew Lilith was aware of exactly what was going on and the witch felt embarrassment cloak her like a cape.

She felt exposed and judged: she was cupping herself, pushing her fingers between her thighs (hard) to avoid leaking, in front of the Queen of Hell.  
She was rocking desperately on the edge of her chair in front of _her_ Queen.

Zelda Spellman, the High Priestess, in order to spare herself a walk of shame in front of people that she wouldn’t likely have met in the first place, was about to have an accident in front of Lilith, First Woman and Sovereign of the Infernal Realm.

The fact that she would wet her pants like a child was a reality by now, but doing it in front of her would’ve killed the witch. If she had to beg, then, for once, Zelda would have begged and implored (not before trying the less humiliating way even though it would probably cost precious time).

“I wo- would appreciate it if you’d leave.” She stammered, hating how she couldn’t even control her voice.

“I would appreciate some sincerity,” Lilith countered with a heavy sigh. Her voice was emotionless (she wasn’t enraged nor amused) but authoritative, “To build a stable partnership, Zelda, we need to be honest and open with one another, don’t you agree?”

Zelda was panting now, eyes watery, her hips rocking against her hand, and she was painfully aware of the moisture seeping through the fabric of her trousers - it had been a leak or the effects of Lilith’s presence (or the teasing and the sultry voice) she couldn’t tell.

Under the demanding stare of her Queen, her voice echoing through her head, Zelda found herself nodding jerkily.

“I agree.” She mumbled, inhaling sharply from her nose when a particularly uncomfortable jolt in her abdomen made her go still for a second.

The fact that Lilith leaned over from her own chair toward the desk, granting Zelda a particularly privileged view of the low neckline of her gown, was a blessed distraction for her mind, but a damned one for her cunt. It spasmed, both in ache and arousal, and Zelda couldn’t do much but stroke more insistently over her pants.

“Then, be honest with me and tell me what you need.”

She was about to wet herself, Lilith was _not_ about to leave.

She wouldn’t, not unless, perhaps, Zelda gave her what she wanted: voice her own need for as deprecable and humane and basic and humiliating it was.

“I have to-” The witch whimpered clamping her thighs around her own wrists when a particularly powerful throbbing wave made her almost lose control. “I have to visit the restrooms.” She exhaled, an uncomfortable heat spreading everywhere in her body.

“Why,” Lilith insisted, “Say it, Zelda.”

The witch glared at her. Why was it so important to force her to expose herself?

“Because- because I was stubborn and waited too long.” Zelda stammered, her voice turning unwillingly into a pained moan. “Because I thought I could control it and now my bladder can’t take a second more so I’m about to have _an accident_ like a toddler.”

She wanted to avert her gaze, but the satisfied smirk blooming on the demoness’ lips kept her glue there on her face. It was like she was praising silently her courage and a blessed heat, clearly of magical nature, was spreading in her chest.

It was warm and comforting, but it didn’t soothe her need whatsoever.

“There must be no secrets between us, nor reasons to be afraid to show our vulnerabilities,” Lilith murmured, “You just needed some encouragement to lower your mask, Zelda. I'm glad you did.” She nodded, a satisfied smirk printed on her lips. “Now off you go, put yourself out of your misery, I’ll be here waiting for you to discuss something I want to arrange with your pretty little Coven.”

Zelda stared at her without uttering a single word.

Lilith was being magnanimous, Lilith knew all about her and the thoughts going on inside her head, but she clearly didn’t know about the gravity of the situation.

Zelda had run out of time: now the previous plan of rushing to the restrooms was infeasible, not without making a mess, not without humiliating herself forever.

Zelda wanted to cry, but that too was humiliating.

Lilith said she appreciates honesty? Then she would give her honesty.  
After that, perhaps, the demoness would leave and finally grant some blessed privacy to just deal with her issue.

“I can’t.” Zelda whimpered.

Lilith’s face contorted into a puzzled expression, “Can’t?” She echoed, her head tilted to the side.

Zelda drew a shuddering breath and wiped angrily at her eyes with the back of her hands. If she’d dragged mascara and makeup across her face she didn’t care.

“Stand up- I can’t.”

The puzzled expression shifted again into one of mild concern that Zelda didn’t quite get.

Gasping silently, jaw slackened, Zelda watched in horror as the demoness pushed up and stepped away from her chair, approaching the desk with a confident stride.

She rounded it, gaze traveling from her horrified face down her body, settling quite obviously on her lower half.

Zelda knew she was looking at the hand buried between her thighs, but she couldn’t do anything about it. She had no other choice but to keep it there and continue stroking with her pads, her middle finger pressed directly on her breaching hole. There was no denying she was leaking by now, the dampness rather evident against her pads.

“Please, stop.” Zelda begged, tossing her head to the other side so she wouldn’t have to endure her gaze. “I did what you asked, now _please_ leave.”

Lilith didn’t answer.

The witch was made aware of her close presence only when she felt a warm hand resting on her shoulder, slender fingers grabbing her and, firmly but gently, pushing her backward.

Panting, she slowly turned her head back and peered up at the demoness.

Lilith was giving her an encouraging smile. When the demoness nodded and pushed again, Zelda complied and obeyed the mute request, laying back until her shoulders met the chair.

Unable to stop writhing, hips buckling on their own accord against her hand, Zelda could only let out a moan when a string of pangs hit her bladder, making _everything_ throb.

Her free hand went to claw at the padded arm of her chair, nails sinking into the foam and into the old fabric when she felt Lilith’s hand move South from her shoulder.

Ghost-like fingers grazed over her chest, pushing the flaps of her open jacket off her stomach to settle on the rounded swell that had grown esponetially over the last few hours.

Following with her eyes the foreigner hand gliding over her body, Zelda took a look at herself for the first time and remained at a loss of words when she actually realized how swollen her bladder was underneath her skin. The band of her pants was even restricting some of the swell and she actually looked pregnant like that.

The sight alone made her whine and almost tear up (maybe for different reasons but she wouldn’t dwell on that right now).

“Zelda, you’re _so_ full.”

Lilith’s voice was low and almost marveled and so warm and endearing fanning her ear as she leaned down into her. Her hand was splayed on her belly, its weight almost non-existing and still, it was unbearable.

Like she didn’t know how full she was. It was too much. Too much of everything.

“It- it hurts.” She whimpered, pushing her fingers even further against her pulsating cunt. Her hand had almost gone numb. “I beg of you to leave.”

“No.” Lilith replied, her hand stroking, light like a feather over the outstretched, sensitive skin of her abdomen sheltering the overworked bladder underneath. “I don’t want you to hurt, Zelda, but I won’t leave.”

The witch shook her head desperately at the implication. Lilith could ask anything of her but _that_ crossed every boundary.

“I can’t.” She whined, her breath ragged as she squirmed, trying to back away even from that slightest of pressure. “I won’t, not with you watching.”

She swallowed, her body jerking forward when she felt hot liquid gush out of her without any possibility to stop it. She clenched her muscles, pressed her finger hard on her leaking hole, and managed to stop the flow (not for long, she knew).

“Why not?” Lilith wondered, her voice grounding against the shell of her ear, “It’s between you and me.” 

“Exactly. I still have dignity.” If she succeeded in cajole her to go in the next 10 seconds, perhaps she would have had her accident unseen from any eyes but her own. 10 seconds though, not one more.

Instead, she felt the tip of Lilith’s nose trace a small, messy path against her cheek.

“Oh, but it won’t strip you of your dignity, Zelda.” Her voice was sultry and rich.

Zelda yelped when the demoness’s hand abandoned her stomach only to be joined by another, thumbs sliding effortlessly past the bands of her pants.

She felt some drip escape for the unforeseen invasion, but a sense of relief, albeit minimum, when deftly fingers popped the button of her trousers open, granting a little more space to her bladder to expand.

“Quite the contrary, in fact.” Lilith whispered again, her teeth only grazing at the skin of her neck, close to her pulse point. “Let go, and I’ll tell you a secret.”

Zelda mouthed a string of ‘please’ when she felt slender fingers wrap around her wrist and yank her hand from between her thighs.

The absence of it triggered another spurt to escape her and, helpless, she looked down at herself only to see a small patch of darkened fabric on her crotch.

“For your Queen.” She whispered, and her other hand claimed her previous spot above her stretched abdomen and _pushed_.

AIf a mild pressure was already unbearable, an actual pressure was unthinkable to fight.

Involuntarily, her legs unclenched and spread lightly while the witch body let go all at once, a spurt of hot liquid gushing forcefully against the layers of clothes and dampening the fabric.

Zelda was panting, eyes closed into something similar to bliss where Lilith was everywhere around her and her voice was everywhere inside her and there was no humiliation, nor embarrassment, but just them, at that moment, because it hadn’t been an accident but something she needed and something Lilith desired to witness.

When Zelda leaned back in her chair, utterly spent and sore, she didn’t dare to open her eyes. She swallowed and focused on regulating her own breathing, Lilith’s one, slightly labored, fanning her neck (and by the way the air hit her skin, she was almost sure the demoness was smiling).

“Vulnerability is an indication of power, Zelda.” She murmured, her hand lazily caressing the restored taut area between her navel and her crotch. “You let me watch and stay while you were at your weakest, your very own body turning on you, making you lose the control you love so much.”

Very slowly, Zelda blinked her eyes open and for the first time, she gazed into those ocean eyes and found something calm behind them.

“I was asked by my Queen.” She murmured softly, her voice still quivering.

“And I’m very pleased.” Lilith offered her a smile, “You’re done?”

Zelda swallowed, engaged her inner muscles, and forcefully pushed the last few drips out of her. The process wasn’t pleasurable and a general soreness settled everywhere in her lower half.

The witch whimpered and tried again just to be sure to be empty, then nodded lazily.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes, then,” Lilith said and, effortlessly, she grabbed the chair and spun it the other way, so she was facing away from the mess that laid on the floor, hidden under the desk.

To her utter surprise, Zelda watched the Queen of Hell kneel in front of her and looped her fingers into the band of her undone trousers and under the elastic of her panties.

The witch took the cue and slightly lifted her hips to help her discard the ruined clothes, and a blush crept on her cheeks and neck when she took a glimpse on the rather eloquent glistening patch of thicker moisture on the inside of her underwear.

Lilith must’ve noticed too because she smirked.

Quickly, Lilith freed her legs, leaving cool dampness on the witch’s skin, and crashed the clothes into a messy ball to throw over the puddle under the desk, letting the fabric soak up the mess to further ease the future cleaning.

“Does it still hurt?” She inquired.

“It stings a bit.”

“Let me kiss it better.”

Reverently, the demoness placed one hand on each knee and looked up at Zelda, silently asking for permission. The witch nodded and spread her legs under her gentle guide.

She couldn’t believe what was about to happen and yet… it felt so right, natural, exciting.

“Oh Zelda, you’re beautiful,” She heard Lilith breathing, gaze raking over her bare lower half, “Hold this for me?” 

Without averting her eyes, the demoness reached her crown and tugged it off her head, a few strands of hair caught in the spikes resting tousled over her curls. 

Zelda blindly put it over the desk, her eyes immediately fluttering close when the first, bold lick lapped at her overly tired cunt and made her see stars.

Zelda was so sensitive for all the clenching and the teasing and soon she found herself bucking her hips against Lilith’s voracious mouth.

Attentive of her previous statement, the demoness was working her tongue greedily but carefully over her clit and puffy labia, spreading the sweet wetness around her folds, touching all the spots like she was used to fuck the witch all the time like they were lovers from centuries (and perhaps, unconsciously, they had been).

Zelda couldn’t believe the pleasure the demoness was able to draw from the pain, and soon she found her hand carding through her hair, urging for more.

Lilith obediently suckled on the throbbing clit, her damp chin pushing rhythmically against her slit.

A predator, a monster, a beast. A huntress, goddess, salvation.

When she stilled, her thighs clamping at either side of the demoness’ head, it was another kind of release, but equally satisfying.  
Her body fell slacken on the chair, utterly spent, and she watched closely with hooded eyes as the Queen of Hell emerged from her thighs, blood-red lipstick smeared around her mouth as she’d just feasted on a fresh cadaver, wiping away her arousal with the back of her hand.

Zelda thought about offering her own service (mouth or fingers or both it didn’t matter) but she was so tired and weak that she knew she would disappoint. Besides, Lilith didn’t seem prone to pretend a return of favor (if it was about that).

When Lilith presented her empty hand, Zelda smirked, reached blindly on her desk, and retrieved the crown.

The demoness wore it. 

The witch fixed it for her.

“Oh, now you’re leaving.”

“I have to. As you said, I’m very busy.” Lilith winked as she stood up and smoothed the skirt of her gown. “But rest assured that I will be thinking of you tonight, in my bed, when I’ll take the mess you’ve caused in my hand.”

The implication was enough to make Zelda’s core throb again.

 _Unholy-_ Zelda stopped in time, eager to preserve a little dignity and a small advantage over the demoness: she’d been desperate (in more than one way) quite enough for one day.

Lilith flickered her wrist, cleaned up everything, and even provided some freshly cleaned clothes; despite the previous sensation of feeling dirty and sticky, now Zelda felt like she’d just stepped out of a steamy, rose-scented shower.

“I believe we’ll form a stable allegiance, you and I.” She smirked.

Before Zelda could even think about an answer, boney fingers sank into her cheeks, keeping her face still when the demoness blew on her mouth and stamped a kiss on her lips, sealing the unwritten contract. 

The witch watched her go, engulfed by a hot swirl of flames, her voice strong and vibrating inside her head.

_“Until next time, my beloved.”_

**Author's Note:**

> \- Feel free to share this on your socials cause I don't have any.  
> \- Smutty prompts (kinky ones very appreciated) are open for every ship involving either Zelda, Mary, and/or Lilith (the trouple is fine too).
> 
> Go wild, don't be shy, and send away your requests in the comments along with your feedback! Thank you 💛


End file.
